In The Rims
by Irresponsible boredom
Summary: Year 5500, humanity became the masters of the stars, at the cost of being distant. So many people with many different stories, unable to share it with others. This is a story of stories, of many whose lives can never be witnessed, whose lives separated by many stars. In The Rims is a fic of diaries compressed into few chapters, exploring the people in the Rimverse.
1. Lost Soldier - Prologue

With the darkness, the room's size can never be revealed. But somewhere in it was faint blue light. And that light is coming from the crevice of an odd looking casket. It was dark and metallic in colour, dented and scratched in different places. And just how different its appearance is compared to your typical casket, so too its purpose.

Quite the opposite to be precise. Rather than to store the dead, this particular casket _preserves_ the living. And this casket came from a time long forgotten. The light flickered, as if it was withering in existence. The cracked, glitching panel showed words foreign to the current generation of mankind. Or any living, sentient being out there.

It says in bright blue:

_Energy reserves..._

_Dangerously low..._

_Performing scan..._

_Diagnostics complete..._

_Subject status..._

_..._

_Alive_

The casket beeped. Mist slowly flowed down from its crevice to the floor. A soft hum and mechanical noises of some sort rhymed inside, consisting of motors whirring and gears grinding.

_Performing emergency activation._

With all the casket's life, it struggled to finally open its cover after unknown decades. Possibly even centuries. It opened wide and proud. In a pool of semi-gelatinous liquid, there lies a young man in his mid-twenties.

He awakens.

* * *

End

* * *

So before I say anything, English is not my first language, and that I'm doing this to share my take on Rimworld universe. Or as I like to call it for convenience, "**Rimverse**". I'm just an amateur writer who recently took one of the worse level of writing block, and I am just recovering from it.

So here's the thing.

Summer. No school. And I can't exactly spend most of my time playing. There's just so many things going inside my head that I want to share, to expand beyond this game. Mods are cool, the more you have it the better. But my laptop's processing power is not. And worse of all, my latest file save got corrupt. I can't understand what this nullreference is. So unto the trash it went.

So here I am.

I may not exactly have plans for this. But I still have the structure for the plot to make sense and be interesting. Btw, I think I'll make this into mini stories where different main characters will be written in different arcs. I think.

Bye.


	2. Lost Soldier - Chapter 1

Woah. Has it been two weeks since I've posted anything? Sorry, busy playing modded Rimworld.

On the side note, there's nerd talk in the first few paragraphs.

Enjoy

* * *

**Space. **

An endless place. Humanity's final endeavor. It was the final test, the final conquest. Technology was by their side, but their biology wasn't. Humanity took a long time to understand the preservation of a live human body. There were two major factors that came to play in this type of field. Quite a few, yet they were intricate and complex to fiddle around with. It isn't just about freezing someone like how you put meat into the freezer.

The prevention of cell crystallization and the aging of the brain are the things that prevent the concept of cryostasis hard to put into practical use. The human body mostly consists of water. And when water freeze, it crystallizes. Putting something in a freezer ruptures the cells. So that's not some sort of preservation method for live samples. It's a one-way method of dying from frostbite.

But humans being humans, they think through their problems. Somewhere far behind time, a team of bright-minded scientists came up with a solution to _replace_ the water ratio of the human body with a special synthesized gel that temporarily _bonds_ with the cellular membrane that, when exposed to low temperatures appropriate for suspended animation, doesn't crystallize. It was an extremely simple solution, but it was one of the most ingenious ones.

This gives anyone Cryosleep sickness, though. After all, the process literally gelates the body, hindering the person's ability to properly function. However, the gel can be easily expelled out of the body through blood circulation, drinking litters of water, and mostly by vomiting. Though if anyone wants to cure the effect at a fast pace, then they would have to puke lots and _lots and lots __**and lots**_ of the gel in their body. Just as what he was currently doing.

Puking.

His arms lean against the metallic wall, panting and sweating as he faces down, anticipating his sick stomach to release its rage. His legs were wobbly, barely standing with his mind being blurry. And to make the sensations worse, his mouth felt _slimy_. Purely, disgustingly, _slimy_. Its like slugs had an ice skate party inside his mouth, using his saliva and their _slimy_ feet to glide place to place, leaving _slimy_ slime wherever they went.

Goosebumps. Pure... Goosebumps. In all seriousness, the body hated the gel.

_"Wheres the damn water supply?"_

Finally, to some extent, his stomach calmed down. At least to some extent. But his psyche did not. There was still some slime. Thick, wet _slime_. Tasteless and odorless as it was it reminded him of nutrient pastes.

Those damn nutrient paste.

"Oh..."

Panic hit him like a desperate battleship ramming enemies into black holes. Just what happened to the others?

"Oh dear me... ", he worriedly whispered.

Whipping his head sideways, the only thing that entered his vision was nothing. In this situation, nothing is more useful than his bionic arm. For him, his right carbon-black, artificial electro-mechanical arm is quite special.

Unlike other designs, it was modeled for war engineers like him. It has a built-in compartment in the forearm where it stores multiple tools fit for fabrication, electronic repairs and modification, quality inspections, and if combat is imminent a plasma blade. Though the last part is for the last stand only, as it takes a lot of juice. Also, it has a built-in flashlight. He was proud of that. He extended his palm, signaling it to turn on. And as the Lord said, let there be light.

Panic struck his heart like thunder in the silent night. There were mechanoids and insectoids. At least their corpses were. It'll be a complete mystery as to how it all happened. But the battle, wherever in time took place, maybe another factor about the emergency activation. Sigh. He breathed deep. Luck was standing behind him. Regardless, where are his allies? Where are his friends who he fought with? Where is Dan, Joseph, Semille, Emily, Rosaline, and the rest of the battalion?

"What...", he muttered.

The rest of the casket, damaged like his with some looking worse, across the suspension room, were all... opened. He walked onwards to investigate, careful as to not stepping on the dead bots and bugs, all while being careful with his drunk-like-ish body that couldn't listen much to his brain. The walls were painted with claw marks and dark smudges from explosions. If it was art, then it was art depicting war.

All caskets were hollow and dry. He was silent. A depressing thought told that he was abandoned to die. But his belief and bonds were stronger than that assumption. Worst case scenario, their bodies would be lying around the same as the unmoving bodies of these bots and bugs. So many things, mysteries, and questions he wants to be answered and unearthed. But one question was above all else.

What now?

C.S.F, short for Combined Salevian Forces, maybe all be gone. Dead. Lost to these never-ending horde of these self-replicating, colonization-ending, humanity-hating mechanoids. The ingenuity of mankind is bound to nothing and this is what they get.

God is dead. People killed it.

And they created one in the form of rogue AI.

Robotic fist clenched, he twisted his upper body and punched the stalking mechanoid who screeched in reply. It took steps behind and caught its balance. Sneaky bastard thought it can just backstab him in the darkness. What it didn't know though was that he was waiting and that he had experience distinguishing dead mechanoids to dormant ones.

The enemy in front of him was a scyther. With its plasteel high-frequency blade as its forearms, it can slice its way through thick armor like a plasma-sword through butter. Deadly in close-quarters, it is a danger to gunfighters. However, the one in front of him had noticeable damage. There were scratches and tears, shattered sight sensors save for one. Whatever it went through, it went through hell. But he didn't care, underestimation kills men better than bullets.

And so without wasting time, logic dictates that a human in recently suspended animation was a good target. Cryosleep sickness is more than a bastard to these fleshlings. It just didn't put the human's ability and arm into its calculation. But now it was different, it knows that he was combat capable all the time.

**[Battery saver: Off]**

It put all its remaining energy into this fight that could be it's last. Decades spent sleeping has made the scyther purposeless. Now it seeks blood, to complete the questionable mission to eliminate all human lifeforms. So it charged with an ear-shattering screech of mechanical tone. It charged with its ready-to-kill arm-blade wide.

He was calm. But his stomach was not.

"BleURGHhH!"

All the remaining slime came out rollercoasting out of his esophagus. His puke came out a few feet. He wasn't proud of that.

The scyther tried to halt mid-sprint upon seeing so. But from the years of lacking repairs, its legs couldn't handle the pressure. Something snapped inside its knees and its whole body went haywire as its arms flail around to find balance. He leaped to his right like a graceful diver to dodge it.

The mechanoid stepped on his _slimy_ puke then slipped and slid across the floor. A centipede's corpse lying sideways was there acting as a barrier to stop the scyther. It did have more than enough weigh to do so. And so with a crash, finally, the scyther had the opportunity to recover. Though something wasn't right.

Friendly fire was common in combat, especially when heavy charge blaster is in the battleground. And while the scyther isn't concerned accidentally stabbing its ally, especially a dead one at that, what made it worried was where its arm-blade was. It was lodged deep into a centipede's, the same one that stopped it, inferno cannon.

The scyther stared silently, but the stabbed inferno cannon replied a spark.

**BOOOM**

The melee-specialized mechanoid was blown into bits. Its dented head was launched to the curvature of one of the casket, to the ceiling, and after a few bounces on the floor, landed near his face. As he was lying he saw the light on its last sight sensor slowly dimming into darkness.

"..."

He was too thirsty, hungry, and dizzy to think about anything.

Only a minute has passed since he woke up and knowing that one of humanity's common enemy died in the most hysterical way was already too much.

He lived.


End file.
